Playing with Death
by Minerva Nargles
Summary: She was a vision of beautiful and terrible darkness that no one could look away. She sat on the high-chair and gave a grin to the bartender. Anders could not help but notice how sharp her teeth looked, how pointed her fangs were. Morana is Slavic goddess of winter, death and nightmares and she's an OC


The moment he has set his eyes on her, Anders felt fear and cold. She was beautiful and Anders could not deny that but there was something in her dark eyes that brought death to the forefront of his mind. Mora reminded Anders of Ty, just a tiny bit, with how cold the room became when she entered. Mora's smile was predatory as she gazed about the bar, sultry but detached.

Mora walked to the bar, her hips swinging from side to side, the black dress clinging to her generous curves. She was a vision of beautiful and terrible darkness that no one could look away. She sat on the high-chair and gave a grin to the bartender. Anders could not help but notice how sharp her teeth looked, how pointed her fangs were.

"Give me something," she drawled, staring unflinchingly at the bartender. "Oh-so-bad for me."

Her voice held a healthy dose of sex and, if Anders was being honest, he was not surprised that the bartender had to adjust his jeans. Hell, even he was having trouble in his pants. She moaned at the sight of Dead Man's Float being placed in front of her, licking her dark red lips in a most sinful way.

"Come here often?" Anders asked as he stood beside her.

"Really?" She smirked, looking into Anders' eyes. "That's the pick up line you're using?"

"Not working?"

"Oh, it is not." She took a sip of her drink, then sighed appreciatively.

"What pick-up line should I use?"

"The only reason I'd throw you out of bed is to fuck you on the floor."

"Hm," Anders hummed, smirking. "Okay."

"Are you really that easy? I do not even know your name."

"Anders Johnson, at your service." Anders grinned, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "And you are?"

"Mora Albtraum." Mora smiled, dark eyes twinkling dangerously. "Since I am very bored, how about a commpetition in pick-up lines? Maybe you know some that I don't."

"Seriously?"

"As a heart attack."

"And if I win?"

"You win me, of course."

"Your face reminds me of a wrench, every time I think of it my nuts tighten up." Anders was never one to hesitate.

"I don't need a spoonful of sugar to swallow you." Mora licked her lips, enjoying how it made Anders squirm.

"Have you ever kissed a rabbit between the ears?" Anders pulled his pockets inside out. "Would you like to?"

"Is this cotton?" Mora queried, touching Anders' shirt as she stood. Then her hand went lower and cupped his crotch and breathed. "Oh, this must be felt."

"Shit." Anders moaned, growing hard in her massaging hand. "I fucking give up."

"You want to melt in my mouth on in my hand, Anders?" Mora smirked, unzipping his trousers. Anders was never happier he went commando. "You might be short but you sure ain't small."

Anders was shocked. He has never met a woman so... Foreward. And, oh, was she good with her hand (although, it was a bit cold). Mora was cold all over but her hand was so fucking hot he was almost done. Then her lips connected with his, Mora's tongue sweeping into his mouth.

"Your place," Mora murmured against his lips. "Or mine?"

"I thought you'll never fucking ask."

"Fuck!" Anders gasped as Mora got off of him. "I just... Fuck!"

"Well put." Mora laughed, almost as breathless as he. "You're not for another round, are you?"

"Not for a while."

"Oh, you're so cute when you pout."

"I do not pout."

"You are pouting right now."

"If I fuck you again," Anders grinned, throwing himself at Mora. "If you stop saying that I pout."

"You'll fuck me even if I don't."

"So, which god are you?" Mora asked as she lay on Anders' chest, drawing imaginary circles on his skin.

"What?"

"I am Morana, goddess of winter and death."

"Bragi, god of poetry."

"Of talking shit, you mean." Mora chuckled.

"If you're goddess of death, how come you're so damn beautiful?"

"Death is beautiful, the process isn't." Mora sighed. "All things have a beginning, all things have an ending. It will always be like that."

"Not if you're fully god."

"Are you an idiot?" Mora looked up at Anders, her black eyes intense. "You do know that gods can be killed?"

"Gods are immortal, Mora."

"Wrong. Baldr himself was killed, unintentionally, by Hodr."

"How do you know all this?" He frowned.

"I am quite a mythology freak, Anders, god of poetry, slayer of Idunn's brother."

And if Anders had nightmares a few weeks after sleeping with Mora, he did not tell anyone. Nor did he mention a sweet kiss Mora gave him and heart palpitations he got whenever he heard a name similar to hers.


End file.
